


What I Need

by CaptainAmelia22



Category: Captain Marvel (Marvel), Marvel
Genre: Drabble, F/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-18
Updated: 2013-10-18
Packaged: 2017-12-29 18:05:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1008412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainAmelia22/pseuds/CaptainAmelia22
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She finds him one afternoon after a mission, doing nothing but reading in a pool of sunlight.  And she knows then, that sometimes holding out for a hero is a good thing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What I Need

The sound of her uniform’s zipper coming undone caught his attention first.  

Steve’s eyebrow rose but he didn’t look up from the book he was trying to read, had been trying to read for almost three months. The zipper continued its slow trek down her sternum as his eyes drifted across the page but still he kept his eyes firmly down.  She only chuckled and tossed her hair, amused despite his obvious unease and inherent amusement.  

He licked his thumb and prepared to turn the page.

The sound her glove made on the hardwood floor of the Tower common room was the second thing to catch his notice.  

His eyebrow rose a little higher and he briefly wondered why she was dropping gloves and unzipping clothes when she could just make each vanish with a slight twist of her mind.  She’d explained it once to him, her powers that bent reality to her whims, but the only thing he’d been able to take away from the impromptu science lecture given to him in the middle of the Savage Lands was that she could change her appearance with her mind.  

It seemed terribly complicated to him but not inconvenient.

His mind drifted to the multitudes of buckles and clasps and buttons and zippers that was his entire uniform and he sighed to himself.  Super-soldier serums were, in Tony Stark’s words, not nearly as exciting as Kree DNA.  

His skin bumped in response to her heady scent washing over him and he cleared his throat before settling deeper in his couch.

She was humming under her breath now, a song he’d sometimes heard from outside of Tony’s workshop on late nights, when the other man thought no one was awake and walking the Tower’s halls.  

It was kind of catchy.

Something about heroes and holding out for them.

He could almost remember the words.

He’d ask Clint to sing it next time when they were heading out for a mission.   

“I need a hero, I’m hm hmm,” she murmured absently as buttons came undone on her left-hand glove and he could just make out her slender fingers working at the tiny gold row dotting her forearm.

He still didn’t say anything to her, despite the tuneless humming that made his teeth clench, instead he finally turned the page and settled even deeper into the couch cushions, absolutely determined to not be distracted from the novel Natasha had actually gushed about on a mission.  

The Red Rose of Moscow, it was titled.

He tried to keep from thinking how similar it’s plot was to hers and Bucky’s supposed lives, according to the legends of the Red Room.

Tried.

Failed.

“Captain.”

Her voice was soft, full of laughter and now the sash rippled in the cool air of the common room as it drifted to join the red gloves resting at her feet.  The red fabric, almost like silk in texture but far stronger than it appeared, spread over the toes of her red boots and she nudged it free to take a step towards him, where he lay sprawled on his favorite couch right next to the window.  He ignored the sight of her breasts brushing the edges of her unzipped uniform and kept his eyes firmly locked on the page before him.  

A part of him, the soldier part of him, couldn’t ignore what was happening before him though.  No man in his right senses could.

A beautiful blonde superhero was standing over him, humming a song and removing her costume.

A teammate was daring him to look at her.

And that part of him truly, desperately wanted too.

But then his sanity returned and he finished another paragraph in his book.  

She wasn’t fazed.  She simply hummed a little louder, still off-key, and came closer to his couch.  

As she walked, her fingers loosened and the buckle followed next, making a faint clang he knew it really shouldn’t have on the wood floors of sunny Common Room.

That disc of gold didn’t exist on a physical plane, according to her and Tony-it should have vanished in a faint flash of gold he was oh so familiar with.  It should not have rolled a few inches to fall star-up beside the leg of his favorite couch.

He cleared his throat and turned the page, even though he hadn’t read a single word of his book since that last heroic paragraph just moments before.  

Another soft laugh and another step as her fingers rose to run through her hair, loose and wild around her shoulders.

“You can look at me Cap,” she murmured, her voice soft in the silence of his favorite Tower room.  “I’m not going to bite you Steve.”   His skin bumped at the sight of so much red puddled at her feet and that zipper resumed it’s slow trek downward, now that the sash was absent from her waist.

The only thing that remained of her uniform now, were her boots.  The tiny buttons lining her calves shone in the sunlight streaming down around them and he found himself wondering, if he stretched out a hand to touch them, if they’d feel like cold metal under his fingers.

Of if it would be like touching air.

Her right foot rose to settle beside his hip, the toe of her boot pressing into him and he jumped slightly at the sudden contact.  She bent, her hair falling forward to shield her face, her torso, her fingers, from his gaze and his mouth went dry at the soft swell of her breast he could just make out through the curtain of gold.

“Carol,” he said softly, his voice harsh with surprise and maybe something a bit more and he tried to shift away from her.

He didn’t get far.

The boot made a rather loud thud on the floor and she glanced at him with a cheeky grin before tossing her hair over her shoulder and moving onto the next boot.  Her uniform was unzipped to her waist and her breasts were barely contained by the navy blue and red fabric that seemed a bit like spandex but definitely wasn’t.  

It was getting hard to breathe.

The sound of his book falling to the floor was as firm and resolute as the sound of her right boot just a second ago but neither noticed.  His fingers, callused and strong, a soldier’s hands, brushed hers aside and he found out for himself what the tiny gold buttons on her boots felt like.

Electricity.

And gold.

Air.

And energy.

“Carol,” he whispered as he eased the boot off of her foot and she gripped his shoulder for balance, a strange blue heat in her eyes.  Gold energy danced along the tips of her hair, within her irises, over her skin.  A small smile twisted her lips, knowing and daring, all at once and a part of him, primal and heated, responded to that with a sudden urging.  “What are you doing?” he asked as she straightened and shrugged her shoulders in one smooth motion.  The uniform, what remained of it at least, eased over her skin with a sigh of alien fabric over alien reinforced skin and suddenly she was naked before him.

She stunned him and broke him in one moment.  

He remembered the first time he saw her, her eyes blank with power and golden energy dripping from her fingers as she emerged from the crater that had made her and he sat back against the cushions, his eyes wide and his mouth slightly agape.

Captain Marvel, his friend and his teammate, simply smiled and moved to straddle his hips.

“Trying to catch a fly or two, Cap?” she asked as she tapped his jaw just slightly with the tip of her finger and he snapped his mouth closed with an audible click.  She chuckled again and pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth.  “Just like the one-winged dove, sounds like the song hm hm,” she hummed as she smoothed her hands through his hair and rocked her hips against his.  

“Why are you doing this Carol?” he asked as she tangled her fingers in the hair at the back of his neck and pulled him in for a kiss.  “What about Jessica?”

She smiled against his moving lips and nipped gently at his bottom lip before murmuring, “This was her idea Cap.”  

His eyes widened a bit at that but he didn’t get a chance to protest or ask for clarification because suddenly her fingers were trailing over his chest, working at the buttons of his shirt and she was pressing her heat firmly into his lap, into the sudden hardness tucked in his slacks.  Two sets of blue eyes sparkled as her thighs tightened against him and an idle thought struck him as she stroked his collar bones and trailed kisses down the strong column of his throat.  

“I can’t hurt you,” he muttered brokenly as his head fell back on his shoulders and his fingers spasmed against her hips.  “I can’t-can’t break you Carol.”  

A soft laugh broke free of her working lips and suddenly his chest was bare to her ministrations and she was grinding slowly against him, against his open zipper and the soft cotton of his boxers.

“So Captain America is a boxer man, huh,” she hummed and he jumped as her fingers trailed against his cock.  “I think Logan owes me twenty big-ones.”  

His eyes fluttered open at that but she wasn’t looking at him; she was busy easing his shirt over his shoulders and down his arms.  He shifted to accommodate her actions and tried to regain some of his clarity.  It didn’t work.  For the most part.

That soldier-instinct kicked in though, just as she was slipping the tiny button on the front of his drawers free.  

His hands flew out, stopping hers and he actually exhibited some of his strength-something he wasn’t used to doing with a woman-to stop her from revealing him once and for all.  Her eyes rose to meet his and a single dark gold eyebrow rose over a still sparkling blue eyes.  A corner of her lips, swollen and a deep red he found unbelievably charming on her angled face, twitched upward in a rakish, crooked smirk and his cock twitched under her palms in response.  That sparkle deepened and a faint noise issued from her throat.

It was almost like a purr.

He cleared his throat and tried to retain his sanity.  He almost failed.

Pretty much failed.  

“Carol,” he choked out as she strained against his hold and her hair rippled in a river of gold over her shoulders.  “Why are you doing this?”

He had to understand.  

Had to make sure this was truly okay.

That he wasn’t committing a heinous sin by sleeping with Captain Marvel.

He just...he had to understand.

That faint noise once more and then she was leaning against him, his hands pressing into her belly as she arched towards his ear and he shivered as her lips trailed over his jaw to press against the shell of his ear.  

Her scent, like ozone and apples and gasoline, washed over him, making the fine hairs on his arms and the back of his neck stand to attention and his eyes closed in response to the coiling desire coming to life in his groin.  She was a constant presence, a constant pressure and she was warm and soft and hard all at once.  

She was Carol.

And she was in his arms.  

“You’re afraid of breaking me, aren’t you Cap?” she murmured in his ear.  “Afraid that if you push too hard, hold a little too tight, I’ll fall apart.”  She straightened a bit, met his gaze and nuzzled her nose against his jaw; her eyes were soft now, full of understanding and maybe a little remorse.  He knew then, that she understood.

Understood what it was like to hold back, to constantly keep movements in check, to always be aware of how hard he was pushing.  

He understood why she and Jessica were themselves.

Understood why Bucky and Natasha were too.

He understood.

He envied them all.  

“I won’t, though, Steve,” she whispered in his ear and suddenly her hands were free and she was kissing him and holding him, all at once, her movements full of lightning and strength and a love that was gentle and fierce all at once.  

“You can’t break me,” she whispered as her hand slid between their bodies to grip his cock, to ease it gently against her folds.  He shuddered and his hands were once more pressing into her hips, pressing harder than he’d ever let himself press before and she gasped as he thrust into her, instinct pushing him into her welcoming body.

They inhaled as one, exhaled as one, rocked as one.

And suddenly he understood.

Understood what it was to love a teammate.  

It was unbreakable and sacred.

It was gentle and fierce.

It was heaven and hell.

And she was loving and understanding.

“I'm holding out for a hero 'til the morning light,” she hummed as their bodies rocked in tandem and sunlight haloed their couch.  His eyes closed as she held him, as she kissed him and her off-key singing was so charming, so simple he loved her for it.  He groaned as her fingers trailed over his collarbones, over his chest, through his hair and she chuckled as she began to shudder around him.  His palms drifted up her back to tangle in her hair and he pulled her head down for a kiss to her forehead as she picked up their rhythm and their bodies began to rock into an in-sync climax.  

As a joint pressure began to take them, their eyes met and lips lifted in smiles; there was love in their gazes and understanding and he sang softly, his voice a husky baritone, “He's gotta be sure.  And it's gotta be soon and he's gotta be larger than life.  I’m holding out for a hero.”  

Carol’s eyes widened and as he thrust once, twice, three times as hard as he could-harder than he had ever allowed himself before-her head fell back on her shoulders and her fingers spasmed on his shoulders as she came.

“I found my hero,” she whispered brokenly as she trembled around him and he himself came with a cry.  Her fingers tangled in his hair and she tugged him into her breast with a soft sound of pleased contentment deep in the back of her throat.  “You know you can come to me any time, Cap, if you need to,” she whispered after a long moment, after their bodies had shifted back to normalcy.  

His eyes opened slowly, in time to see the outlines of her slender body to shimmer with a familiar energy and he smiled wryly as she rose from his lap, clothed once more, this time in a form fitting black t-shirt he recognized as Jessica’s and a pair of shorts that showed off her unbelievably long legs.  

Her abandoned uniform pieces were nowhere to be seen and once more the wry envy from before struck him as he wished for a similar composure.  

“Thank you Carol,” he said gently as she bent to kiss his forehead before turning to leave the room.

That crooked grin flashed in his direction as she slid out the door and her voice carried as she murmured, “Any time Steve.  Any time.”  

As the sun lowered over New York City, he sat back in his favorite couch and straightened himself before stretching out a hand to pick up his book that had fallen to the floor.

The faint clink of metal rocking against hardwood met his ears and he frowned.  

A gold disc, about the size of his cupped palm, rested in his fingers, a golden eight point star sparkling in the sunset and his lips twitched in a small smile at the faint tingle of electricity that danced up his arm.  

“I’m holding out for a hero,” he hummed as he leaned back in his couch and flipped The Red Rose of Moscow open to the point that he had abandoned it.  

The metal disc rested on his bare chest and it did not vanish that night or any other night after.  

 


End file.
